


Curls

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Percy Pigs, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12039654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: The entangled curls of Kenny and Marty's new relationship





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moiself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiself/gifts).



> Warning: Slash (Kenny Omega/Marty Scurll), fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost as soon as Kenny's rebound guy dumps him, he realises that there was more than just rebounding with Marty.

It'd taken Matt and Nick an uncomfortable about of both time and people to find a replacement for him. A replacement that fit in the right ways, and filled voids that he'd not known existed until the day Kota left. It'd come out of nowhere really, a decision made without mentioning it to Kenny even once, it was just thrust at him and he was expected to just accept that Kota was leaving. So, as soon as Kota said he wasn't signing with NJPW again or staying with Kenny which is exactly how he took it, Kenny found himself a metaphorical knife and jabbed it firmly into that traitor’s back. An action that Kenny has no guilt over and doesn't care about at all, at least that's what he tells himself and most of the time believes.

The replacement for Kota is very different to the original. Unlike Kota, Marty is as open as a book. Kota kept secrets, a habit that got him stabbed in the back, but Marty and secrecy haven't even met. For all his claims of villainy, Marty's primary concern appears to be with harmony. Harmony and awesome sex.

Sex with Kota was _incredible_ , and it is with Marty too, a different kind of incredible though. The sort of incredible that leaves Kenny grinning like a fool and as euphoric as going sixty minutes in the ring. Kota’s incredible sex was kind of more tiring, going sixty minutes in the ring tiring, totally satisfying, absolutely awesome but _exhausting_. As replacements go though on the sex front, Marty's a good one. But, Kota was cuddly.

Kenny loves a good cuddle. He likes wrapping his arms around his lover and holding them tightly. He likes snuggling and nuzzling and caressing. Things Kota loved. Marty isn't so much cuddly as he is curly, and not just his hair, which has the softest loose curls, especially when damp with sweat. When it's damp his hair takes on a pre-Raphaelite wave, and it's adorable, but not the only curling when it comes to post-sex Marty. The man himself has a tendency to curl around Kenny, not cuddle, but curl like a cat trying to touch as much of Kenny as possible. It's different to cuddling. On the surface it's the same, but it is different. Again though, the difference isn't bad. It's just different, and different is okay. It's not Kota, but with time it'll be okay.

Marty's curling habit is how they ended up in their current position. Kenny’s resting his head against Marty’s chest, with one hand absent combing through the damp curls of Marty's hair, his phone in the other. He's scrolled through as much social media as he can stomach, and the news is kept out of the bedroom because it's depressing, so Kenny’s currently swiping through his old photos, waiting to fall asleep to the gentle rise and fall of Marty's comfortable chest. He's no idea what Marty does in the post-coitus moments. He's usually quiet, all soft and pliable, fluid almost. He makes for a comfortable pillow if he chooses to curl behind Kenny, usually at least, because suddenly Marty tenses, the soft warmth of his body seems to freeze.

“Who's…” The moment Marty trails off, Kenny realises where he'd scrolled back to in his photo reel. Kota’s brilliant smile is all he can see on the phone’s screen. If Marty had felt tense beneath him before it's nothing to how he feels now. Kenny doesn't bother searching for the words to talk his way out of this, but the heavy silence from Marty feels like he might be waiting for just that. “Let's not do this again, okay?” Marty doesn't sound upset, rather he sounds resigned, like he'd been waiting for this, and maybe Kenny had been too. Kota was always hanging over them, because Marty was always just a stand-in for what Kenny had lost until he got it back. He doesn't bother answering Marty, just gently ruffles the damp curls under his fingers once more and sets his phone down. If this is to be last night he spends with Marty curled about him, he may as well enjoy the man.

The Bucks are a strange choice for glue, but they are what hold Kenny together. They're better at it than he's ever been, and far less likely to complain. The Bucks are loud, they’re boisterous, they're mischievous, and when he needs it they're quiet bastions of strength. They're also painfully observant. In the morning after Marty quietly dumped him something must have seemed off to them, because before Marty can even say good morning, Matt is guiding him to the breakfast bar with a cheeky grin and a tall tale, leaving Nick to level Kenny with a look.

“Nothing.” Kenny answers the question in that look as best he can. It was a complicated expression but apparently that was enough of an answer for Nick, because he slides a cup of coffee to Kenny, and leaves it at that.

It doesn't feel like he's been dumped, but he certainly was broken-up with. Then again, he and Marty were never really a thing beyond occasional amazing sex, and ruffling Marty's curls whilst rambling about nothing in post-coital bliss. He's not been dumped, like Marty said they're just not doing _that_ again, which is fair enough really. If Kenny had been in Marty’s place he’d have been offended by being someone else's rebound, but Marty, decidedly unlike Kenny, is a harmonious little creature at heart so he’d come along on Kenny’s self-indulgence without complaint.

It doesn’t take long for Marty to leave, and irritatingly The Bucks go with him. Kenny probably should be less reliant on Matt and Nick, but they’ve been ridiculously dependable. When he really needs them, both of them are there, watching his back and keeping him together. So, it was no surprise to him that they were there for the G1 Finals. It’s a big moment in both Kenny’s career and his life, of course Matt and Nick are going to be there having his back.

After a match is always fuzzy. He can sense The Bucks behind him, can hear muffled sounds that might be talking but he's no idea what they could be saying, but then suddenly there's silence.

Spotting Kota is as easy as spotting the sun in a cloudless sky. Golden Star is more than a nickname, it's a fact. The man shines high above all others in a crows. Yet, his appearance doesn't change anything, it doesn't soothe that wounded and aching part of Kenny. The moment Kota’s hand touched his skin Kenny had expected to feel whole again, like he had before Kota had left, but he doesn't. There's nothing but a niggle in the pit of his stomach and meeting Kota’s confused, almost betrayed eyes does nothing to shift it. He doesn't have words. He barely has breath. He doesn't want this, doesn't want to be here. Pushing Kota away is the only reaction Kenny has, staggering towards the changing room. The chatter of The Bucks is quick, but soft. They're good friends, a good buffer against examining anything too closely, because there's a lot he should be examining. Especially how the niggle is soothed by the notification for Twitter that Marty’s tweeted high praise and kind words about him.

A good long think is exactly what he needs. A good long think that he spends hiding just how much he's thinking behind living his normal life, because no one really needs to know just how cluttered the mind of The Cleaner is. He's not over Kota. He is entirely not over Kota. His blood boils, and his teeth itch at the thought of him. His palms sweat and his heart races too, but in Kota’s presence there'd been so little emotionally, so little any feelings other than the desire to shove another knife in his back that Kenny's attributing those physical reactions to a desire for some manner of vengeance. All Kenny had really felt was the need to be away, to be somewhere else with someone else.

“Fuck.” Someone else who curls rather than cuddles. Someone else who has already dumped him. “Great.” Kenny’s reflection is a judgemental asshole, but its heavy gaze leaves him in no doubt that his desire for Kota is done. He's not over Kota in that he rather enjoys twisting knives, but that’s it. It is rather typical of Kenny to take on some of the personality traits of his current love, but based on how his leadership of the Bullet Club is currently going he should have taken Marty’s inclination to harmony rather than villainy. Still, he can’t complain too much about wanting to cause a spot of bother. It does seem to be the most fun part of Marty's gimmick after all.

The best way to approach Marty, and to actually talk to him rather than get a brilliant smile and that infuriating harmonious nature of his is on his own. A good realisation but a difficult to achieve situation. Matt and Nick appear to have decided to act as buffers between Kenny and Marty. Apparently the Bucks have become rather close to Marty and have decided that his back is as worth watching as Kenny's. And when there isn't a Buck springing up, there's a Cody, or a Page, or pretty much any other member of humanity. If there is a god, it conspires hard to keep Kenny from getting Marty alone. _But_ , he is a patient man. A patient man who feels slightly like a stalker because he's been tracking Marty with the diligence of a desperate fangirl, however finally it's just him, Marty and a hotel corridor empty because it's dinner time and every sensible person is eating. Marty's not long landed though, so he's only just arrived at his hotel, with the intention of spending some time freshening up, before all of the Bullet Club  head out for dinner. It slightly feels like taking advantage of this designated Marty alone time, but Kenny's patience is at an end, he wants to get everything off his chest and Marty back in his bed.

“Can we talk?” Marty literally jumps at the sound of his voice, his hand clutching at the neckline of his shirt like a middle-aged lady clutching at her pearls.

“Bloody hell, man. Gimme a heart attack why don't you?” Sweet, charming, for-the-ladies-only-smile Marty. Definitely not the Marty Kenny wants to talk to, but it's a start. A start that fades quickly, and a more uncomfortable version of Marty manifests. He starts fidgeting with his room keys, and Kenny desperately wants to pull him into his arms to stop the damned jingling and to plaster kisses all over his face.

“Hmm. You're rooming by yourself right?” But, he settles for speaking instead. It's easy to keep his tone soft, just on the edge of the deep rumble he knows sends a shiver down Marty's spine, because as much as Kenny wants Marty back he doesn't want it to feel like he cheated to get his own way. Marty's the villain, not him. Cheating is Marty's thing, so Kenny will play as fair as he can, for as long as he can.

“Yeah...yeah.” A brilliant smile, but it's given to the wall to the left of Kenny’s head, as though Marty can't bring himself to look Kenny in the eye. “I just landed, so you know dropping off my stuff then meeting the lads. You’re coming to dinner too, right?” The keys start jingling again, but this time it's to open Marty's room. There's a pause, a moment where Kenny’s sure he can hear the cogs in Marty's head turning, trying to work out what exactly Kenny wants, and how much of that want is it safe for Marty to concede to, which is clearly a pressing concern as beneath that slick smile there's a hefty dose of damage that Kenny’s going to have to fix. “Did you wanna talk out here, or can I offer you a cuppa?” He doesn't look over his shoulder, just walks into the room. Following Marty isn't a choice, it's a necessity. He wants this fixed a quickly as possible, but he'd not spent any time thinking about what to say to Marty once he had him alone. So, he follows Marty into his hotel room, and tries desperately to put something worthwhile together in his head, all the while listening to Marty ramble cheerfully, but shallowly, about what he’s been up to and how his flight was.

“I'm not gonna lie, I'm not over him.” Kenny shoves a hand through his hair and perches on the end of Marty's hotel bed.

“That's nice?” Marty raises an eyebrow and looks horribly like he's no idea where any of this going. But, if he's honest Kenny’s none too sure himself. He knows the final destination is Marty curled around him again, everything else who knows.

“I am done…” Kenny flops back on the bed and glares up at the ceiling. “I'm finished with wanting him.” Marty doesn’t comment on that, and Kenny supposes that forging on is the best plan. “Our rebound thing was nice.”

“Uh...you're welcome?” Marty still sounds horribly confused, and Kenny guesses he should offer some clarity, but confusion adds an air of vulnerable to Marty that is annoying appealing. Marty is so rarely vulnerable and it's a good look on him. “So, did you meet someone new then?” It's impressive how fast Marty manages to tuck all his vulnerabilities behind a jovial mask. Kenny sits up to look at him. He's sat on the chair by the dresser, but the composure in his voice is absent from his body. His shoulders are curled in, his arms curled around stomach, his head bowed, the curls of his hair tumbling down one cheek. Marty looks like he needs to be held and soothed with the gentle handling that only a lover can provide.

“New?” Kenny slithers down the bed to his knees and waddles the small distance to Marty's chair on them. “Not really new if I'm honest, but definitely _someone_.” He reaches out and tilts Marty's chin up.

“Hey, c'mon.” Marty pulls back, plastering himself against the back of the chair. “I said we don't do that anymore.” He levels Kenny with a look that blatantly says _change my mind on this_ , something Kenny has every intention of doing.

“We got two options here, one I can give you a long, impassioned but ultimately boring speech about how I was in love Kota for years and he broke my heart and I was on the rebound and blah, blah, blah.” Kenny cups Marty’s face, and draws him as close as he can without actually kissing him.

“Not gonna lie, that sounds boring as fuck as far as pre-dinner conversation goes.” A grin has found its way to Marty’s lips. It seems Marty's twigged quickly onto Kenny's intentions, and is more than willing to go along with them. “So, option two?”

“Option two, and I won’t lie it’s _my_ preferred choice.” Kenny brushes his lips over Marty’s ear, his tone dropping to the deeper rumble that sends a shiver through Marty almost as if on cue. “Option two is that I tell you I’m looking to cause a spot of bother, and need a devious villain by my side to help me with it.”

“Tempting, I’ll give you that.” Marty sounds wonderfully composed, but his head is tilted to one side letting Kenny rest his chin on his shoulder and take in the scent of Marty’s cologne.

“Tempting enough to spare us both the trouble of me spilling my heart out without getting you off first?” The sappy, sentimental part of Kenny, which is horribly loud and often scorned by his reflection, would very much like to spill all of the frustrations and misery of having realised that his heart no longer cares about Kota Ibushi because it’s decided that Marty Scurll is going to take much better care of it. Marty’s laugh is deep and soft and has Kenny melting against him. He’d never noticed how nice the sound of a contented Marty is before they’d ended their _rebound_ relationship, but it is nice. The kind of nice that has Kenny wanting to snuggle against Marty’s warm chest and not move for hours. The kind of nice that once Marty realises how much Kenny likes it, is going to be used against mercilessly against him.

“You make it sounds like there’s a lot to spilt, Mr Omega.” One of Marty’s hands is gently petting Kenny’s hair, not trying to bring order to the tangled chaos of his curls like Kota always tried to so, but rather petting them reverently, respecting and enjoying their inclination towards disorder. “It’s a good thing you’re a cleaner, and I’ve got a brolly then, I guess.” Marty laughs again, and shifts so that he can see Kenny’s face. “Hey, don't pull that face, I’ll listen.”

“Now?” Kenny’s sure he sounds horribly despondent, but he understands why Marty would want a full and detailed account of Kenny’s realisations before accepting them as the truth.

“Fuck no!” Marty shifts again, and brushes Kenny away so he can get to his feet. “I’m starved, and Nick says there’s a really good place like ten minutes from here.” He offers a hand down to Kenny, the infectious grin he’d been wearing still on his lips.

“It’s more like fifteen, and I know a better and closer place.” Kenny lets Marty pull him to his feet, and then into an unexpected embrace, where Marty tucks his head under Kenny’s chin, and fidgets until Kenny wraps his arms around him firmly holding still and close.

“I was hoping you’d get him out of your system quicker, but I’m glad you got here in the end.” Honestly, Kenny’s not sure where Marty’s going with this, so he offers little more than a soft _hmm_. “I was getting tired of looking after my adopted kids on my own, you know.” Marty laughs softly, and Kenny brushes a kiss over the side of his head free from the caramel tangle of curls. Marty pulls back slightly, and leans up just a little. “All mine now, right?” Kenny nods all but imperceptibly, and Marty’s grin changes into a mildly evil smile. His harmonious nature is apparently the veneer, not the villainy, and that discovery sends a spark through Kenny, a spark the confirms that this is the single best decisions he’s made since befriending Matt and Nick.

“We’re gonna cause so much bother.” Kenny murmurs as Marty draws him into the kind of kiss that you don’t want to end until you’re panting and sweaty, the kind of kiss with Marty that ends with him curled around Kenny in some impossible, but incredibly comfortable way.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, but first!” Marty steps back, and grins at Kenny just as there’s a knock on the door. “We gotta feed the kids.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marty tries his hand at hairdressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slash (Kenny Omega/Marty Scurll), fluff.

Dating Kenny, properly dating and not just being the rebound for him, is pretty much what Marty had expected really. The things he’d expected to be charmed by, he is. The things he’d expected to annoy him do. There’s very little that surprises him about Kenny. Very little, but not nothing.

Kenny cares a great deal about his appearance, just not in the way Marty cares about his. He will freely admit that reflective surfaces are kind of like magnets for him. Marty has a very hard time walking past his reflection without making sure his hair looks okay, or his beard is alright, or his tan doesn’t need topping up. Kenny on the other hand, he’s not all that bother about the aesthetics beyond making sure he’s ripped. And he is _ripped_ , gloriously so, but as a counterpoint to his lovely rippling muscles, he has a crow’s nest on top of his head. The crow’s nest is super soft, and lovely to pet for hours, but Marty is vain. He likes the things he owns to look at least half as pretty as he does, and whilst Kenny does look pretty, but he could look _prettier_.

Curls run in Marty’s family, so it’d not been too weird for him to text his hairdresser cousin to ask about deep conditioning treatments for curly hair. After a good ten minutes of her sharing the family gossip, and her pumping him for information about single handsome wrestlers she could seduce, she’d given him some solid advice, and an idea.

So, one evening after his shower, but before Kenny settles down to play videogames until they curl up in bed, Marty enacts his _make Kenny prettier_ plan. A very simple plan that involves Kenny doing nothing but staying still.

“Sit there.” Marty gestures to the cushion from the couch he’s just tossed onto the floor, and offers his most innocent smile to Kenny. He’s been perfecting that innocent smile since he was three years old, but he’s not sure it fools so much as intrigues Kenny, every other lover he’s had on the other hand were always fooled by it. Marty has yet to decide if that’s a good or bad thing.

“You’re plotting...no, you’ve plotted.” Kenny catches Marty by the waist, and kisses him on the tip of his nose. “Is this a plot that pays off well for me?”

“Have any of my plots failed to reward you for your cooperation?” Once more Marty offers an innocent smile, and gets an unfairly judgemental look for it. His plots are always good plots as far as Kenny is concerned. Marty is nothing if not a kind plotter with regards to Kenny.

“How are we defining reward?” Kenny does pull away, and sits on the cushion, after a brief detour to grab the controller for the console. A detour that works in Marty’s favour, when Kenny’s distracted by his games Marty can get away doing with pretty much anything.

“However the dictionary does. Lean forward for a second and lemme scoot behind you.” Marty pushes Kenny forward, and settles on the couch behind him, his legs on either side of Kenny. Without really thinking about it, Marty squeezes his scruffy, still slightly damp, pyjama wearing man between his thighs. There’s a hefty part of him that is possessive over his man. Kenny is a sweet, kind boy that needs protecting from his own inherent niceness; at least Marty is there to add a spot of villainy into the mix.

“Well, this is cozy.” Kenny leans back, and grins up at him, dragging Marty from his very distracted and rambling thoughts. “You feeling all romantic, Marty?”

“Something like that.” Marty leans back, cants his hips up, and pulls the bottle of deep conditioner out. His cousin had assured him it smelt lovely, and that he’d only need a small amount, looking at the bottle and the mass of damp curls in front of him, he’s not sure this one bottle is going to be enough. “Shit. I forgot a towel.”

“Towel? Are you planning on covering me in that?” Kenny nods to the bottle, sounding deeply unimpressed, and again Marty’s innocent smile is on his face. Kenny still isn’t falling for it though.

“Your _hair_ , and yes.” Marty trails a finger lightly over the slight crease on Kenny’s brow. “My cousin said it’ll make you fluffleable.”

“What?” Kenny still sounds unimpressed, but his eyes have fallen closed, ignoring the home screen of his console in favour of enjoying gentle caresses from Marty.

“She said it was a combination of fluffy and ruffleable.” This gets a vague noise of contentment from Kenny, and nothing else. One of Kenny’s many weaknesses is a fondness for being petted like a kitten, a weakness that Marty takes full advantage of. He’s a villain after all; it’s his job to take advantage. “Lemme past and I’ll-” Kenny pulls his pyjama shirt over his head, and tosses it onto the couch beside Marty. “Or you can take your shirt off, I guess.”

“Saves time, doesn’t it?” Kenny grins over his shoulder at Marty, and starts his game. Marty unscrews the lid of the bottle, a thick sweet smell fills Kenny’s living room almost immediately. “What is that stuff?”

“No idea, but it’ll make you all the more fluffy, darling.” Marty starts carefully working the concoction through Kenny’s hair. “So, what you playing?” It seems only appropriate to make pointless small talk whilst applying the sweet smelling goop to Kenny’s curls. The whole process has Marty feeling like a hairdresser, and wondering if he’d be good at his cousin’s job or not. He thinks he’s got the affable charm, and flirtatious nature to be a wonderful women’s hairdresser, but probably not the efficiency to deal with men.

“The same thing I've been playing all week, babe.” Kenny mutters, clearly distracted by his game. “You really aren’t into games, huh?”

“I played the shit outta Fifa, like a normal English boy, but I grew up, darling.” Marty bites back a snicker at the indignant noise Kenny makes. “What? I did that minesweeper and that weird heart game on the computer too, and Angry Birds on my phone. I was well disappointed when that wasn’t a TOWIE tie-in.”

“Marty, babe, _please_ change the subject. I love you and don't wanna have to sulk because my hobby flies over your pretty, little head.” Kenny tilts his head back, letting Marty see his grin, letting him know that it really is a joke, and that there’s no resentment there.

“How kind of you.” Marty murmurs, his fingers still gently working the conditioner through Kenny’s hair, trying to keep each spiralling curl intact. Marty will happily admit to his weakness for Kenny's curls. His absolute favourite non-wrestling or sex thing in the world is petting Kenny's glorious curls. Once he’s satisfied that every last strand is coated, he grabs Kenny’s pyjama shirt, and wipes his hands on it. It’s too warm for sleeping with a top on, and really Kenny was being optimistic, or pessimistic depending on your point of view, if he thought he was going to be sleeping in clothes in the first place. “Now you just sit there nicely, and I’ll make us a cuppa.” Marty clambers of the couch, and needs for Kenny’s kitchen, with a quick detour to his suitcase to grab the nice teabags, and good biscuits his cousin had given him along with the conditioner.  

“What if I don’t sit nicely? What if I sprawl, or squat, or sit naughtily?” Kenny calls out loudly enough to be heard over the kettle. Kenny’s tendency to be a bit of a brat is one that Marty rather likes; it’s oddly endearing, and never fails to bring a smile to Marty’s face.

“Then, I keep the jammy dodgers to myself.” Marty comes back into the living room, and tosses a packet of the aforementioned biscuits on the table, which Kenny makes a beeline for, opening the packet and biting the first biscuit he withdraws clean in half. “Twenty minutes at least, by the way.”

“For what? The gunk in my hair?” Kenny’s distracted once more, his gaze riveted to the TV screen, half a jammy dodger hanging out of his mouth. The kettle clicks off, and Marty makes for the kitchen, shaking his head and muttering about the fact he’s dating a literal man-child, which is true. Kenny is very often very immature. It’s neither a bad nor good thing really; it’s just a facet of what makes Kenny Kenny, a facet Marty has little desire to change, unlike some others. He returns to the living room with two cups of tea.

“Uh-huh, we’ll need to rinse you off at about ten-ish.” Marty sets Kenny’s cup on the table, and clambers back into his spot on the couch. “This is the good tea by the way.” Kenny makes a vague noise, and automatically reaches out for a sip from his cup. “See what a good boyfriend I am, bringing you only the best England has to offer. And, not only did I bring you biscuits, and tea, I brought you the finest Percy Pigs that you may consume British sweets at their best.”

“Percy Pigs?” Kenny shakes his head, and pauses his game. “Your country is weirdly talented when it comes to candy, Marty.” Kenny turns around, and presses a kiss to the tip of Marty’s nose. “I don’t need those pigs to sample British sweets at their finest though.” He kisses Marty, slow, and deep, his hands cupping Marty’s face like it was made of spun sugar. When Kenny pulls away the smile that’s on his lips is as sweet as the scent of the conditioner in his hair. “Because no other sweet could be finer than you.” There’s not much Marty can say to that, all he can do is give his innocent smile, and mentally promise himself that once he’s got Kenny’s curls under control, he’ll start working on the fact that Kenny has him curled around his finger.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marty has a new title, and spends a little time celebrating with his new Uncle.

“See you later then lads.” It’s all hugs after the show, hugs and the promise of swift and sweet reunions. The Bucks have to jet off, and Marty is heading to his own bed for the first time in what feels like a million years.  It’d been a good night. Any night where you win a belt is a good night, but Marty _really_ loves having a belt. Not that belts mean much of anything, they’re ephemeral rewards really, but still, he adores being a champion.

“They seem like good lads.” Stu has _always_ had the sort of gruff, rumbling voice that seems to vibrate into your bones, and speak to some primordial part of your soul, but combined with the high of winning a belt, it has Marty grinning like a dork, and nodding along vaguely. He’s fairly certain that Stu could have suggested Marty chop his own dick off and he’d be agreeing like a moron.

“The Bucks? Yeah, yeah. Whole reason I’m in the Club really.” Marty’s still sweaty, still in his trunks, and Stu is wearing a _lovely_ grey suit. He looks like some manner of ancient king come to life in fine modern tailoring. Which is a lovely thought, but not a good one to have in trunks. “I should…” Marty trails off, uncertain what he should be doing, but entirely certain what he shouldn’t. Mr Bennett is rather distracting, and it’s been entirely too long since he’s had his hands on his own mop-haired love. No amount of stern talking tos, and promises to withhold Percy and his various fruity animal friends from him have led to Kenny taking the idea of actually doing more than the bare minimum for his hair to heart. Marty is grimly resigned to dating a very buff, very charming, very handsome, very sweet mop.

“Go get dressed, young’un. Then let Uncle Stu take you out for your tea.” Stu pats him on the head, and Marty mentally starts picturing Mary Berry naked, which in turns brings memories of jokes about prying cheese toasties open back to him. If nothing else these horrific thoughts kill the more pleasant thoughts of pleasing Uncle Stu.

One quick shower, spent mostly fussing over dressing to impress, a good Englishman must always have a suit in his luggage, or for comfort, which presents the problem of wearing merch or not and whose merch to wear. In the end Marty settled on jeans and a t-shirt, just a plain one with no branding. Stu apparently decided to do very little but fix his hair, which means his substantial form remains restrained by some exquisite tailoring and the will of decency, because that suit is stretched rather tight in certain areas. They end up in the nearest Weterspoon’s, eating gloriously cheap but gloriously English food. The sort of gravy soaked delights Marty finds himself mourning when he’s too long and too far from home.

“So, how you enjoying Japan?” Stu asks the question just as Marty’s shovelled a mouthful of sausage buttressing gravy and mashed potato mixture topped with a few renegade peas into his mouth. He must look like a little kid, trying to scarf down his bangers and mash as quick as possible, but at least he didn’t form it into a hedgehog. The one time he made English cuisine for Kenny, he made him a mashed potato hedgehog, with sausage quills, pea eyes, nose and grass, and a small gravy moat. Kenny had been ridiculously impressed or maybe charmed, either way Marty had been smug as hell over his culinary prowess, and Kenny had enjoyed it so much he’d requested more examples of Marty’s finest British cooking. Whilst he’s home he’s going to have to watch some Delia for tips.

“It’s great. I’m...the language is tricky, but it’s great.” Marty can’t quite keep the grin from his lips as Kenny’s regular attempts at playing Japanese teacher surface in his mind. Stu nods, a broad grin on his face.

“Yeah, new country, new language. It’s the same over in the US, really.” He chuckles, and Marty is very glad of his drink being at his mouth to muffle the little verbal swoon he just had.

“I know, right? Different world over there.” He laughs, hopefully regain his composure, and if not, at least he returns to his dinner.

“Oh, definitely.” Stu’s pushing his pasta around his plate, his eyebrows knit. “I don’t know that I miss it, but I do miss.” That s seems to go on a little longer than it needed to, and Stu doesn’t seem inclined to finish that sentence.

“I miss the lads, which is daft cause I’ve not known them all that long, but Matt and Nick are kinda like ivy you know? They just grow on you.” Not flattering but true. The Bucks seem very talented in the art becoming unarguably integral to a man. They’re Kenny’s undeniably armour, but they’ve become quite valuable to Marty too. He’d be annoyed with that, if they weren’t so damnedly loveable.

“They seem like good lads.” Stu’s polished off his pint, and looking torn. “You don’t drink?”

“Nah, and I don’t mind if you do, so knock yourself out.” Marty grins and debates the value of asking that Stu doesn’t actually do that as he’s huge and heavy, and whilst Marty lifts, he’s not keen on lifting _that_ much. Also, he does not want to get into Stu’s hotel room.

He ends up in Stu’s hotel room. Thankfully not because Stu’s blackout drunk, or perhaps that’s not a thankfully situation, because as soon as they sat down, a new facet to Marty’s problem made itself clear.

There are many things about Kenny that Marty is proud to almost the point of smugness over, his cock being one of them. His man has a great cock. The sort of cock that it is perfectly acceptable to daydream about. The sort of cock that demands courage and earns respect. The sort of cock that is matched solely by the man that wields it, and Kenny is a cocksmith of skill and precision. Kota leaving Kenny is a mystery, especially considering Kenny’s skills in the art of love-making, but Ibushi’s lose is Marty’s gain. It’s Kenny’s cock that he should be focussing on, not the considerable bulge in Stu’s trousers which is opposite him, and not at eye level, but that doesn’t stop Marty’s eyes from straying down anyway. It is a highly considerable bulge. It’s hard to judge if it’s bigger than Kenny’s from this angle, but that’s _really_ not something he can ask Stu to clear up for him. _So, how big is your cock, mate?_ It’s not polite after-dinner conversation.  He really should be paying better attention to what Stu’s talking about. He’d asked some reasonable questions about movie filming, and managed to keep the horribly thirsty sounding ones about whether he’d considered filming porn to himself, and thankfully it seems that Stu is perfectly content to sip at his can, and ramble. It’s a great situation, or at least it would be if Marty was listening, and not trying to work out if Kenny has a similarly cut suit that he’s seen him wear so he can mentally compare crotch bulges. Not that Marty intends to act on any of this. He’s very happy with Kenny’s cock, but he does like to know he has the best. He’d hate to feel like he’d missed out on something. Not that Stu is a thing, or that Marty has any investment in his dick, or Christ on a bicycle he needs to leave before Stu shifts like that again. Somehow in settling into a more comfortable position, Stu has splayed his legs more, and his groin seems almost _displayed_. If Marty didn’t know better he’d say this was the start of a terrible porno. He can’t help but wonder if Kenny would be annoyed or amused by him starring in a porno with Stu. He’s no idea of Kenny’s thoughts on the larger man. He should ask, or leave before any of this babbling nonsense finds its way out of his mouth.

“You still single then, Marty?” It’s a blunt enough question to jolt Marty from his very inappropriate thoughts, and one that he’s sure has him blushing like a tomato. “Wait, weren’t you with Zack, or am I wrong?”

“Nah. Me and Zack, nah.” He shakes his head, and wonders how many cans Stu has in his room, and if he should stay until they’re all gone. He probably should leave, but at this stage it seems rude.

“No? Huh...so, definitely not one of The Bucks?” Stu barks a laugh, and Marty joins in. The idea of anyone sleeping with either one of The Bucks is laughable, despite their _many_ children.

“God no.” Marty shakes his head, and glances at his phone. It’s still too early to call Kenny and gloat over his newly acquired belt.

“So...who does that leave? Cody?” Stu barks another laugh. “Nothing surprised me more than that boy getting a wife.” Stu wipes his eyes, and drains his can.

“Uh...well, I guess you know him better than me, but they seem pretty happy.” Stu’s staring at him thoughtfully. Marty fidgets under his gaze awkwardly, and really wishes he drank.

“So, who’s that leave? The blond guy?” Stu rubs a hand over his beard, and offers Marty a distinctly _filthy_ look. “The one that The Bucks make big dick jokes about?” Stu leans forward in his chair, and pats Marty on the thigh.

“Uh...it’s not Page.” Marty shifts in his chair, painfully aware that he must look horribly uncomfortable, and Stu collapses back in his own, cackling.

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist.” Stu pulls cracks open another can, and takes a long drink. “So, it’s not the one with the rope…and the fact you’re as red as a bloody tomato, makes it Omega.” Floundering for words isn’t something Marty does often, so long as post-coital conversations with Kenny aren’t counted, his man is a very talented cocksmith after all, but in this instance, he can’t think of a single thing worth saying. Stu pats him on the thigh again, and laughs again. “Well, at least you made good choices there.”

“Yeah. Six-star machine doesn’t just count in the ring.” That draws a barking laugh from Stu, and Marty’s hopeful that he’s got his blush under control, if nothing else his words have returned to him, which is better than not blushing really.

“Well, that’s something.” Stu takes another drink, and sighs. “Try and spend more time with him, eh? This long-distance shit sucks.”

“You and Shea still?” They’d been a thing _way_ back when, and at once Marty’s surprised and unsurprised to hear they remain together. They’d seemed pretty strong, but distance and the WWE have to be putting a strain on their relationship.

“Course. Why would I change my man? Oh, and if you’re gonna try and fix that bloody crow’s nest, give up. I’ve been trying to fix Shea for years, and look where that’s gotten me.” Stu laughs again, and takes another drink.

“At least Kenny is _highly_ unlikely to go for a mohawk.” Marty smirks at the indignant squawk Stu makes. He’s never been more grateful to be dating a mop, and not an ill-advised rooster.

“Please, that’s his best hairdo in years... infinitely better than when he was Beaker. Either way, he seems like a keeper, so you know, keep him.” Stu drains the can in his hand, and rubs his eye. “Right, bugger off young un. I need a shower, and you’ve to get your arse home.”

“True.” Marty gets to his feet, and offers Stu his hand to shake. The bigger man uses it to pull himself to his feet, and pulls Marty into a hug.

“My advice is use vinegar, and if you can silvero. It’s like brasso, but for silver.” Stu winks, and it takes Marty a moment to realise he was being given belt cleaning tips.

“Thanks, Uncle Stu.” He slaps the taller man on the back, and leaves the hotel room, making his way back home as quickly as he can.

When he finally makes it through his door, the first thing Marty does is check the time in Japan. It’s just after nine in the morning, so it feels like a reasonable time to expect Kenny to be awake, but perhaps not at home. His man has a habit of spending his days being busy, and mentally plotting. Kenny’s inclination towards plotting is one of his most adorable traits. His plots may not be as nefarious as Marty’s own, but when they’re run past Marty they get a spot of villainy mixed in, which makes them perfect. He and Kenny make for a wonderful team really.

“Hey. You look damp.” Not the most seductive opening gambit, or maybe it was because Kenny seems to be blushing slightly and ruffling his hair, puffing up like a proud peacock. He does so like getting compliments from Marty, and really Marty does so like giving them. He’s _very_ proud of his man, very pleased with his selection, which even has his Uncle Stu’s approval, not that Kenny needs to know about that, or at least the portions of the night he spent considering Uncle Stu’s crotch bulge.

“Just got outta the shower. I figure, seeing as I don’t recognise the place, you must be home You enjoying being back in England?” As expensive as his iPhone was, Marty finds himself cursing the camera in the damned thing. He can’t quite make out the expression in his man’s eyes, which is beyond annoying. It’s a harmless question but that’s only if it’s meant as such. In his hands it could be used as a sharp weapon, but then again Kenny isn’t a villain like Marty, so it’s probably just him being sweet.

“No.” Marty mutters, shifting to make himself more comfortable. His own bed feels weird and lumpy, and infuriatingly empty.

“No?” Kenny sounds horribly confused, and Marty can’t help but laugh at him.

“How long has it been since we were in the same time zone, darling?” Marty’s pouting, he knows he’s pouting, even if he couldn’t feel the expression, the look of enchanted joy on Kenny’s face would confirm it. For some ungodly reason Kenny has convinced himself that Marty is cute. He’s not cute, he’s handsome, but whatever. He’ll take a compliment when it’s paid.

“Entirely too long.” Kenny sighs, and a pout of his forms on his pretty lips. His man has the perfect lips for pouting with, very soft, very full, very kissable, but very far away.

“I concur.” Marty manfully resists the urge to fold his arms and properly sulk, if only because that’d send Kenny’s pretty pout away. Nothing brings a dreamily content look to Kenny’s face faster than Marty in a sulk. “You been resting that broken knee of yours?” At that Kenny laughs, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, and Marty finds himself pinching the bridge of his nose. “Will you _please_ be more careful with what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” The pout comes back and Marty has the terrible feeling he’s damn near leering. He is _very_ fond of Kenny’s pout.

“Did you not agree that you were mine, darling?” Kenny looks _very_ pretty when he blushes, and Marty’s possessive streak makes him blush so reliably. Kenny rubs a hand over his face, and looks off to the side. “Anyway, ask me about my win loss record.”

“I’ll reward you for that subject change later.” Kenny grins at him, and licks his lips. “So, did you win your briefcase?”

“Oh, yes.” Marty shifts slightly, and sets his phone on the cabinet by his bed. He’d pulled his clothes off before entering his bedroom, and wrapped his new belt about his waist. Reclined on his annoyingly lumpy, and infuriatingly empty, bed the belt is draped over his family jewels.

“I thought…I mean I am _not_ complaining, but I thought you weren’t getting a title shot.” Kenny’s clearly taken a screen cap. The way he’s holding his phone leaves Marty in no doubt that Kenny has screen-capped the image, and he’s a little annoyed that the lighting isn’t better.

“I’ll send you some nicer shots, darling.” Marty finds himself promising, without really thinking about it. Kenny deserves some nicer shots of his man, and Marty is admittedly slightly vain.

“Thank you, babe. So, how about I call you once you’ve had some sleep, and you can _show_ me your new title, hmm?” The leering smile on Kenny’s lips transcends the shabby video and camera quality, and the deep rumble of his voice sends a shiver down Marty’s spine. The sooner he’s in the same place as his man the better.

“I’ll let you know when I’m up then.” Kenny gives him the expected immature chuckle at that comment, and Marty can feel himself puffing up in childish pride at making his man laugh. “Do you own any suit trousers?”

“Suit trousers? Uh…I think so?” Kenny looks confused, and takes his phone on a walk to his wardrobe. “Some black ones, but they’re gonna be too big for you. You’re a pocket-sized villain, babe.”

“Shut it. I’m a reasonable sized, fun-sized at worst.”

“Fun-sized sounds about right.” That line had no right to be delivered in the rough, rumbling, commanding tone, but it was and Marty really is hopeless against it. “It’s not too long now, babe. Soon enough, I’ll be there to make sure we have all the _fun_ we can.”

“Grey one.” Abrupt subject changes are cheating, definitely cheating, but Marty is a villain, and he’s not going to sleep if his little villain is standing at attention.

“What?” Kenny looks mildly out-out, but when Marty yawns, the dreamily content look blossoms on his face. It really is a compliment how pleased Kenny looks with Marty sometimes. A compliment that Marty knows he takes advantage of, but villain.

“When I call I want you to be wearing grey, suit trousers. Don’t ask why, just know that it is for science, and for me, okay?” Kenny laughs softly at him. Marty finds himself responding by sticking out his tongue, and shimming out of his new belt. He’ll be nicer to it in the morning, but for now it’s fine on the floor.

“Alright, for _science_ and my fun-sized villain I will be wearing grey suit pants and nothing else.” The single most annoyingly, gut-wrenchingly, cock-twitchingly sweet expression Kenny has in his arsenal is on his face, and the only response Marty has is to smile stupidly back at him, and rubs his eyes sleepily. “Get some sleep, and call me later, okay?”

“Yeah. Love you, darling.” Kenny signs off with something equally sweet and sappy, and Marty drifts off to sleep, missing being curled around his man.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny has a bubble bath and a sulk. Marty has Percy Pigs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slash (Kenny Omega/Marty Scurll), Fluff, Smut.

Marty is dramatic, theatrical you could say, and that compliments Kenny, who is quite aware that you could perhaps describe him as extra. Right now though, he’s certain that he justified in being extra...upset...offended maybe, but he certainly doesn’t have his knickers in a twist as Marty unfairly accused him of having. His knickers aren’t even on. They’re on the floor, they’re also not knickers, and they might actually be in a twist because he yanked them off, and a little melodramatically flopped into this ridiculous, but much welcomed bath. He’s not entirely happy about the mirrored tiles, because who exactly wants to stare at themselves when they’re bathing? The point of baths is to relax, and wallow in melodrama the part of Kenny that likes to smirk at him from his reflection points out, but it gets a fully justified scowl, and ignored as he sinks further into the lavender scented bubbles.

“You here?” Marty’s returns to their room, not as late as he’d been expecting, early even which is either him being nice or motivated by jetlag. With a villain like _his_ man the latter is more likely really. “I’m guessing you’re in the toilet. You better not be scowling at your damn reflection again.” At that Kenny scowls at the door, which he once more feels is justified. “That’s how you get wrinkles.” Marty mutters as he pushes open the bathroom door, and pauses. “Nice.” He gestures towards the bath, and heads for the toilet to have a piss.

“Really? This is where we’re at. That explains so much.” Kenny mutters, and sinks his ears beneath the water, staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the sound of Marty relieving himself. Marty’s face appears over him after the sound of a tap running and the toilet flushing. He’s glad Marty’s parents trained him properly.

“Our kids are worried.” Marty perches on the side of the bathtub, his voice is muted by the water sloshing in Kenny’s ears.

“Thankfully, we don’t have kids.” He sits up, and can feel the scowl on his lips.

“They sent me home to find out what’s wrong with their favourite dad.” Marty continues, and tries to cheat Kenny out of being able to hold onto his annoyance by shifting a sodden curl from his eyes.

“Is there something wrong with Mr Massie?” Kenny is scowling. He’s quite proud of keeping a hold of his annoyance in the face of Marty’s cheating. Marty sighs heavily, and shakes his head.

“Our adopted kids’ actual dad is fine, you cranky bastard.” Marty tilts his head slightly, and regards him thoughtfully. “So, you wanna help me put their little minds at rest?”

“They’re fully grown adults.” Marty is far too good at getting his own way, but Kenny is clinging desperately to his annoyance, and a longer look at Marty’s chin makes it come flooding back. Marty sighs again, and gets off the edge of the bath.

“Fine, fine. Sulk in the bath, I’ll just eat all the Percy’s I brought you.” Damn Marty’s homeland and its delicious candy. There’s only one thing in the world that tastes better than those squishy pigs, and that’s Marty after he’s eaten one, and that cheating asshole brought with him new and exciting Reversi-Pigs. Damn Britain and its infuriating ability to make things that Kenny is particularly fond of, but he’ll resist because in this instance, he’s in the right to sulk. “Huh...I really thought that’d work.” Marty comes back into the bathroom with an open pack of Percy Pigs. “Here. I’m not so cruel as to deny a sulking man his sweeties.” Marty tilts the bag towards Kenny, pops a Percy into Kenny’s mouth and retakes his spot on the bathtub’s lip. “Brandi says hi.” Kenny snorts, takes the candy from between his lips, and bites an ear from his Percy. He’s sure she says hi. Her _husband_ probably doesn’t though. “Says she missed you tonight...Do I need to worry about Brandit?” Marty laughs, and takes another Percy for himself, popping it into his mouth whole, which is a terrible offence, as they are candies to be savoured, but kind of impressive because they’re pretty big.

“Gimme.” Kenny taps the outside of the bag, aware that his soggy fingers would ruin the candies inside. He scowls at the smiling pig Marty hands him. It’s feels rude to scowl at a Percy, so Kenny scowls at his judgemental reflection instead, but his reflection is looking at him like he’s a particularly stupid child. The third sigh from Marty has an edge of minor annoyance, something Marty is generally loathe to actually express what with his proclivity for harmony.

“I’m getting pretty bored of this, darling. You wanna tell me what it is I’ve done, so we can have an argument, and I can see if I need to take the kids up on their offer of a place to sleep tonight?” Marty may sigh for a fourth time, but he does give Kenny another Percy, so at least he’s not _that_ annoyed.

“I’m yours, and you are mine, right?” A good starting shot, hopefully one that will let Kenny get out of this impending feelings talk with his man-card still intact.

“Oh for fuck sake, really?” Marty laughs, and another Percy Pig is shoved into his mouth whole as he gets off the edge of the bath, and starts getting undressed. “ _This_ is what’s wrong? Jesus…My darling, darling, little mop-topped numpty.” A very naked Marty perches on the edge of the bath again, and flicks Kenny on the nose. It’s mildly offensive that Marty is being so dismissive of what is the single most justified huff Kenny’s had since Kota decided to betray him. But it is nice how Marty seems to be incredibly good at understanding what’s going with him.

It should have been just a nice backstage moment, a cute little thing for the fans, fangirls mostly because Marty knows where he gets the money for all the Percy Pigs Kenny wants from. A cute little kiss on the cheek, but how dare he clasp what was Kenny’s for so long. To hell with Cody surname redacted for legal reasons! He had no need to clasp Marty’s chin for so long, no need to leave his lips pressed against Marty’s sweet, soft skin for what seemed like hours, no need to be so close to the man that is Kenny’s. Marty may confess to being a little possessive, and really Kenny adores that about him, it’s nice having someone give so much of a damn about who lays a hand on him, but Marty’s charming possessive streak is _nothing_ compared to Kenny’s. It’d taken everything he had to not kick everyone out of the locker room and forcibly remind Marty in the most intimate and loving manner possible who he belongs to. He’d been filled with horribly bitter bile at the sight of Cody touching _his_ Marty. His little flapping, plotting, cunning, conniving, sweet, candy supplying, hair conditioning, bed and heart-warming villain. His. Not Cody’s. Kenny’s. He’d spilled his heart to Marty. He’d shared custody of their _adopted_ sons. He’d welcomed him into the Bullet Club. And no son of a son of a plumber should be kissing him. Storming back to the hotel and deciding to have a relaxing bath was probably not the most restrained reaction, but admittedly it was the most Kenny one, so at least he was being true to himself. A situation he doesn’t like presented itself, and so Kenny went to go brood on it for a bit. Brooding is something he’s good at after all.

“You’re mine, Marty. _Mine_.” His tone has dropped, low, gruff and deep. The sort of tone that is cheating when it comes to talking to Marty because it’s a magical way for Kenny to get his own way in any situation. He’s almost resentful for Marty taking his shirt off because grabbing his collar would be more efficient than catching the back of his neck to draw him into a kiss. The Percys Marty ate have mingled with the way he usually tastes, and as Kenny knows from experience it’s additive. “I don’t appreciate married twinks groping what’s mine, you know?”

“Hmm...duly noted.” Marty smiles lazily, there’s a devious little light in his eyes, and Kenny just _knows_ that comment is somehow going to backfire on him, or at the very least bite him in the ass somehow.

“You’re plotting.” It’s a very familiar accusation throw make at Marty, and one he always responds to with the cutest innocent little smile, that Kenny _knows_ is nothing more than cover for generally delightful mischief.

“And my plots always end well for the antagonists, don’t they?” Marty chuckles, straightening up with a rather smug look that suits him far more than it has any right to really.

“Even in your own schemes you’re not the good guy, huh babe?” Kenny laughs, and shifts in the bathtub, pressing himself against the side so he can pull Marty as close as possible. “I want to put a collar of them around your neck, you know?”

“Huh?” Is all Marty gets out before Kenny makes a start on putting a hickey as large and as deep on as he dares on Marty’s hip. Marty wears pretty high-waisted trunks so it should be fine, but then again, he’d not object to the rest of the world seeing this deep purple, damn near black so perhaps he’s been a little over-enthusiastic with it, love bite. “I’m not sure that’s quite blatant enough...shall I ring a bell and announce your ownership like a town crier? Hear ye, hear ye, Kenny is a possessive and bitey fucker, so please limit your time spent grabbing at me?”

“Tempting, but we’re gonna have to work on your cry. That’s too specific.” Kenny grins up at Marty, his fingers lightly tracing the dark blotch on Marty’s hip. It’s not as pretty as the warm, golden skin around it, but it’s very distinctive. “You gonna come have a soak with me?” He offers Marty a pout. He knows Marty’s weakness for pouts and has learned too well from Marty to exploit weaknesses to his advantage in this relationship. His pouting is horribly wasted on Marty’s back though. He’s busy rooting through his pants’ pockets, muttering to himself, and eating more of Kenny’s Percys. “Stop eating all my pigs.” Kenny flicks water at Marty’s ass, getting nothing more than the finger for his efforts.

“You’ve not seen how many bags of the damn things I’ve brought you.” Marty turns to him, brandishing a bottle of lube. “I took an extra bag of nothing but rubbish for you.”

“A bag? The grey one?” Marty nods at Kenny vaguely, he’s clearly thinking more about prepping himself, because apparently Marty had come prepared for bathtub sex. His man is almost annoying good plotting how to get his own way, but like Marty has said on many occasion his plots turn out good for Kenny too. “You know, I thought that was just merch.” Kenny supposes that he’ll be topping, they’re going to have to talk about that sometime though, because he’s not bottomed in what feels like forever and he rather misses that. He’s quite interested in comparing Marty to Kota, seeing if Marty will have any of Kota’s habits, like fast and brutal anywhere but their own bed, and when there slow, and methodically focussed on leaving Kenny a gibbering wreck. Based on what he knows of Marty, he has the feeling that if he asked for those things, he’d get them, but if Marty was left to his own devices he’d be different somehow. He’s not put too much thought into how Marty will be different, because if he does when he finally gets Marty inside him it’ll be either a let-down or utterly overwhelming. Neither of which is preferable, because Kenny wants the first time Marty fucks him to be something he remembers.

“Oi! Will you not get lost in scowling at the tiles, and focus on me?” Marty looks depressingly put-out, his fingers are glistening with lube, and his cock is standing to attention, but there’s a frown on his face that has no busy being there. He stalks up to the bath, and grabs a hold of Kenny’s half hard dick. “Here I am, putting on a show, and you’re busy lost in your own head...it’s no wonder I let married men molest me.” That spurs Kenny into action. He hauls Marty into the bathtub, sloshing a fair bit of water out, and buries a couple of fingers inside Marty’s stretched hole.

“Oh...so you let him kiss you for so long on purpose, huh? What for? You hoping for a three-way, _my_ little villain?” Marty shivers, and lets a sweet little noise. “Oh? So, that _was_ the angle all along, hmm?” Kenny bats Marty’s hand from his cock, and lets Marty et himself into to position to take Kenny’s cock. He’s very good at knowing what he needs to do and where he needs to be to facilitate Kenny’s plots as well as his own. A fact that really makes all of Kenny’s musing on the first time Marty fucks him utterly redundant. It’ll be exactly what he needs. If the first time he needs it hard and fast, then Marty will provide. If he needs it slow and sweet, then Marty will move slower than tectonic plates and be sweeter than a whole farm of Percy Pigs. He pulls Marty down onto his cock, burying it into Marty’s welcoming body with a quiet grunt. “You are mine, Marty.” He presses his lips to the shell of Marty’s ear. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, and there is nothing, no one between us, certainly not Cody.” Kenny runs his hands down Marty’s back. Marty nuzzles at his neck, his teeth teasing leaving a mark, as Kenny rests his hands on his waist. He’s certain that Marty will understand that this is less about Cody and more about other stuff, but mostly Kota. Because no matter how much he wants it to not be about Kota, a lot of who Kenny is is because of Kota, so in the end most things wrong with Kenny can be traced back to him There are other things, like distance, time, success, a thousand things that all churn around in Kenny’s head because as theatrical as Marty is, he’s not _extra_ like Kenny, and he seems to have a much better handle on pretty much _everything_.

“Hmm, you really think that I’d let Cody...I can’t even...I mean I know the man is the twinkiest twink to ever twinkle, but really?” Marty laughs, and kisses Kenny’s neck again. “There are times I curse the fact you don’t wrestle in a polo-neck.” It’s a silly little joke, but the tone it was given in is where the truth was hiding. That tone was pitched sweet, kind and understanding.

“Hmm...which is why your hickey is on your hip, my little flappy bird.” Kenny rocks his hips, shifting his cock just a little, drawing another quiet little comforting noise from Marty. He understands, he knows the real reasons behind this whole thing, and accepts that Kenny really is more possessive than Marty, that he doesn’t _quite_ understand Marty’s own possessiveness for reasons Marty gets and Kenny doesn’t want to think about. “So, for future reference, possessive locker room sex, yes or no?”

“Are you actually fucking kidding me? I could have had a _fuck you Cody this is mine_ sex hours ago, but you decided to fu-” Kenny thrust up into Marty more firmly, stopping him from finishing his tirade. Marty rears back, uncurling himself from around Kenny, and splaying his hands on Kenny’s chest. “Don’t you _ever_ fucking deny me back against the wall, hot shower mixed with angry sex again, you hear me? _That_ is the sort of sex that I am like owed for being your gummy sweet dealer.” Kenny chuckles at that, the deep rumbling chuckle that seems to turn Marty into a melted, cooing kitten.

“I’ll try my best to remember that.” Kenny bucks his hips, and Marty seems to get the hint, moving himself up and down on Kenny’s cock as he sees fit.

“Lazy...I should have you ride me.” Marty winks down at him, moving slowly. Kenny tries to force Marty faster, but he swats Kenny’s hands from his hips. “Lazy doesn’t get a say in the matter.” He keeps a slow, lazy pace, his fingers returning to massaging Kenny’s chest. “You want that, huh? Wanna trade places?” Kenny isn’t sure what expression he’s wearing, but it seems to be pleasing Marty. He starts moving a little quicker, his head tilting back when Kenny takes his cock in his hand. “He’s not quite as impressive as your monster, but I think my little villain’s damn fine, right?” For a second Kenny’s no idea what Marty’s talking about, because he’d squeezed his body around Kenny’s dick, and that is definitely cheating if he was expecting an answer.

“Marty, babe.” Kenny’s voice is damn never a growl, and that has an even better effect that the deep rumble. The growl makes Marty’s cock twitch in Kenny’s hand, and he files that away for future reference. “I thought your super power was being Zack Morris, not Professor X.” Marty looks at him blankly, and crumples forward, giggling.

“I was having a moment, you twat.” Marty’s face is pressed against Kenny’s neck again, his shoulder bouncing as he giggles. “I was being all...you’re a fucking arse.”

“Well, I mean if you wanna get pedantic about things…” Kenny trails off, and thrusts up into Marty.

“Fucking pedant.” Marty seems to have gotten his giggles under control, but doesn’t seem inclined to move, leaving Kenny with the task of continuing this bathtub fuck. “I am serious though.” Marty shifts so he can look Kenny in the eye, his hands cupping Kenny’s cheeks. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to top some time.”

“Tomorrow.” Kenny pulls Marty into an unexpectedly fierce kiss. When they part, Marty’s wearing an expression that’s a weird cross between smug and grateful.

“I’m holding you to that.” He bops the tip of Kenny’s nose, and returns to the task of riding Kenny’s dick with relish. He moves with the speed and precision of a man intending to get his man off as quickly as possible, which makes it a silly race between them, because there’s no way Kenny’s letting Marty’s sweet ass beat his fine, elegant fingers. He gives the best hand-jobs this side of planet. Marty does have incredible body though, both inside and out. Inside, he’s hot and tight, rippling, pulsing, squeezing, teasing, moving over Kenny’s cock with what can only be described as perfection. Outside, his thighs tense and relax, there are bubbles in his hair somehow, the bathroom lights keep making them glint like diamonds, which picks out the pretty curls in Marty’s hair, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes are half-lidded but focussed on Kenny. He’s a beautiful, beautiful man, and he’s all Kenny’s.

“Cum for me, babe.” Kenny brushes a thumb over Marty’s bottom lip, freeing it from its prison, and lightly pulls Marty forward, resting their foreheads together. “Cum for me, and I promise tonight I’ll fill you up.” Marty moans at that, his eyes falling closed his breathing catching, just on the very edge of orgasm. “And tomorrow, I want you to fill me.” That’s what sends Marty over the edge. He shudders his way through his ending, and flops against Kenny, leaving him with the incredibly pleasant task of finishing inside a sated Marty.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be in a bed, right?” Marty’s wearing his sleepy, slightly goofy smile that if he tried to stand up right then would be accompanied by his legs not quite working properly. Kenny’s very proud of the fact that he can fuck away Marty’s sense of balance, although Marty seems to be as well. If anything, Marty seems prouder of Kenny’s fucking abilities than Kenny is, which is a little odd, but his villain is a strange man made please by odd things.

“Bath’s gonna get cold if we don’t move soon.” Kenny may have said it with purpose, but all he does is run his hands up and down Marty’s back. Marty may be pleased with Kenny’s fucking abilities, but Kenny is more pleased with Marty’s curling ones. It’s not a huge bath, but it feels like there’s nothing in but them, not even the water is closer to Kenny than Marty is.

“Yeah...should probably have a shower, and tell the kids you were just feeling under the weather, cause we don’t wanna worry them. They’re only little after all.” Marty nuzzles against his neck. “You know…” Marty trails off with a quiet little sigh. “I don’t scowl as much as your reflection, and I’ve more of that conditioner from my cousin. It made you super floofy, and we both know how I liked that.” Marty pulls away, and stands, stretching his arms over his head. “I also have Chocolate Hobnobs, which are _my_ preferred bitching biccies, you just ask Jimmy...he’ll tell you all about how many packets I scoffed after so many lights got turned out.” Kenny knows this is a cheerful mask to what is an offer of Marty’s surprisingly good ear, but it’s a cheerful mask that Kenny doesn’t get, so he may as well ask.

“Lights?” Kenny grabs one of the hotel towels and secures it around his waist, not taking his eyes of a mildly embarrassed looking Marty.

“So, I know I banned telly in bed, but I’ll let you watch what felt like a hundred birds not wanting to take me out.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Marty came to be tangled up in the mess that is Kenny Omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Slash (Kenny Omega/Marty Scurll), fluff.

It started with a curly wurly. Marty’s Mum had raised him well, and taught him to be polite. For some reason in Marty’s mind that had equated to bring your soon to be team mates gifts. He’d not wanted to go overboard so he’s brought sweets, decent sweets, but sweeties all the same. The Bucks had been a fine fit for packets of Refreshers, Cody had gotten a Milky Way, Mrs Cody a whole box of Milk Tray because Marty knows what he’s doing when it comes to the ladies, Page a Lion Bar. All of them easy, but then as he’d realised this was the first time he was going to _meet_ Kenny, and he’d no idea what was a good gift. He’d met Kenny before, in passing at least, but never had it been in the context of Kenny almost being his kayfabe boss/leader. The whole problem of what to get Kenny lurked in the back of his mind for days, embarrassingly it kept him awake at night. What manner of chocolate was suitable for Kenny? It had to be different to everyone else’s. It had to be a fine representation of British confectionary. It had to be something Marty would eat if Kenny didn’t like it. Fundamentally, it had to be perfect, and he didn’t know what was.

~~~~

“So...uh...it’s nothing special, but I hope you like chocolate.” He should have put less thought, and more action into choosing Kenny’s present. A last-minute stop at the Spar on the way to meet everyone is not the best way to find gifts for your future leader, but Kenny seems pleased, if confused and like he needs a nap. Over time Marty will learn that this is Kenny’s default setting, cheerfully, sleepily, bemused.

“I don’t not like chocolate.” Kenny takes the curly wurly, reads the label and a hand unconsciously goes up to his hair.

“It’s not a rib, I promise. I like your hair! It’s great hair! Like a curly Dulux dog!” Marty blurts out. Suddenly, his cheeks feel too hot, and he can feel all four eyes of The Bucks on him. His awkward embarrassment in this moment is somehow, someway going to be used in their damned YouTube show. Those devious little shits will be at once the death and making of him.

“Uh...thanks, Marty. I think that’s the first _deluxe_ dog comparison.” Kenny awkwardly nods at him, and Marty, for the first time since he was like seventeen, is contemplating actual death over a social one. Anything is better than wanting to start babbling about paint selling dogs to an increasingly bewildered Kenny. “I like it.” Kenny smiles absently at him as he opens the curly wurly, then takes a bite of it. His smiles morphs, and death is suddenly the single last thing on Marty’s mind. “A dog is better than a mop. I get mop a lot.” That smile is his. In that very instant Marty’s mind switched from his own death to murder for anyone else who got that particular smile from Kenny, because it is Marty’s smile.

~~~~

That curly wurly was just the start. The whole tour around Britain had been embarrassing, but fun, but still _horrifically_ embarrassing. The curly wurly incident somehow got remade into being about Kenny’s dick, because there is nothing Matt and Nick love more than a good dick joke, and Kenny has more than enough dick to joke about. Marty survived the filming, barely, and Kenny seemed utterly unaware of why Marty would just babble in his presence. The next incident wasn’t Marty’s fault though, and thankfully lacked any kind of audience.

~~~~

He should have checked which airport he was supposed fly into more carefully. Haneda or Narita. The two had meant all but nothing to him, so he’d gone with Narita, because it was cheaper. Marty is a wrestler, being cheap is trained into him. He made the wrong choice. A Twitter DM from Matt informed him that they were at Haneda, and that Marty was a good thirty miles away from where he was supposed to be. He was summarily told to stay put, and wait for someone to come fetch him. So, he’d found a cafe where the waitresses were cute, and charmed enough by his brilliant smile to be kind to his terrible, google-translated, Japanese.

“Hey.” A tap on his shoulder, and a voice that is at once the best and worst he could hope for out of the whole group. Kenny takes a seat opposite him, looking as cheerfully bewildered as ever, and still like he needs a nap. Marty’s beginning to suspect that slipping Kenny some Night Nurse would be the kindest thing he could do for the man. “Welcome to Japan.” He holds a box of Pocky out to Marty, with a smile that he has no business wearing on his lips. It’s all just fucked soft, and entirely inappropriate for the general public. Marty suspects that Kenny actually has no idea how he looks most of the time. Kenny seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people, and really that is a good thing, if he knew he’d be dangerous.

“Pocky? I’ve had the before” Marty takes the box, turning around in his hands, looking at the few English words. “But not men’s dark Pocky?”

“It’s good...not the _best_ , but really good, and _dark,_ so suitable for a villain, right?” Kenny leans back in his chair, and turns a brilliant smile to the girl who sets a cup of tea down in front of him. He says something to her that goes over Marty’s head. He should probably start making learning Japanese an important part of his life. “It goes really well with coffee...so…” Kenny trails off as another girl sets a cup of coffee down in front of Marty. Marty cracks open the box, then a packet, and starts devouring the Pocky sticks, because they are _damn_ good. He’s finished almost all of the first packet before he even thinks to offer Kenny one.

“You want one?” He’s shakes the packet, but his offer is refused. Kenny’s cheeks are tinged red, and he seems more interested in _anything_ but Marty as he quietly mutters _no_. Marty absently wonders if the fact his lips are wrapped around a Pocky stick had anything to do with that, because when Kenny sneaks a look back at him, his eyes definitely linger over Marty’s mouth.  

~~~~

It became a tradition from then on. When they met up, they would bring each other the gift of sweeties. Never anything too fancy, or too expensive just a weird little habit between two friends. An odd little habit that for Marty was more about weirdly trying to prove his worth, and earn more of those very focused, very beautiful smiles from Kenny. He has wicked thoughts about those smiles and the lips that form them. In truth he has wicked thoughts about Kenny in general. The man is at once a ridiculous child, delighting in video games and goofery, and an incredibly sexy, arrogant bastard, oozing sensual fuckability. Kenny is a mess of contradiction and chaos, but an endearing mess. A mess that Marty has no idea if he wants to clear up or make worse, but he definitely wants to be involved somehow.  

~~~~

“So...America isn’t home for either of us, but you know I thought…” Kenny trails off and holds out his gift for Marty. This time it’s a pretty box with unknown contents, because no matter how much he studies Japanese looks bewildering and pretty but that’s all as far as Marty is concerned. He roots through his man-bag and presents his return gift with a flourish.

“Not chocolate this time, but everyone likes Percy.” Marty displays the brightly coloured bag proudly, smoothing out crinkles.

“Percy Pig?” Kenny sounds unimpressed, but Marty’s enthusiasm will not be denied. He’s been studying Kenny carefully trying to learn which sweet would be perfect. He’s learned that Kenny has a hell of a sweet tooth, that he likes fruit flavours slightly more than he likes caramel but it’s a close thing, and he is always drawn to cutesy things like a child. Therefore, Percy pigs are perfect.

“Trust me.” Marty shakes the bag a little more, and Kenny relents taking it from him. “Try one.”

“You seem... _desperate_ for me to eat one of these.” Kenny tears the bag open, and offers it to Marty. “Did you poison them?”

“Open your mouth.” Marty pulls a squishy pink pig face from the bag, and taps it against Kenny’s lips. “Eat your damn present.” Kenny starts chewing, and Marty is convinced he’s just seen Kenny’s o-face. “Told you to trust me.” Marty smirks at the little happy moan Kenny makes by way of reply. “Young Bucks! I come bearing gifts.” Marty calls as The Bucks wander into view.

“Ooo, new English candy.” Matt comes closer rubbing his hands, and his brother pulls Marty into a loose hug, leaving an arm around his shoulders.

“So, what you got us this time?” Nick sounds interested enough, but not as blatantly gleeful as Matt. Marty pulls from his man-bag another two packets of Percys which are promptly snatched by Kenny.

“Fight me.” He looks damn serious, the three bags of sweeties clutched to his chest like they were his children. “These are mine. If you try to take my pig children from me, I will fight you.”

~~~~

If it was to repay the kindness of gifting him the delight of Percy Pigs, or just that Kenny had decided it was a good idea, Marty’s never been sure, but shortly after the Percy incident they fucked. He’d say something nicer about the matter, but there’s really no nice way of putting it. Unlike some they didn’t have the excuse of alcohol, but really Marty didn’t need it as he’d walked into the whole thing with his eyes open.

When it came to being Kenny’s fuckbuddy he knew what he was, and that was a rebound. A very delayed, very badly timed, rebound. It stung Marty’s considerable pride, but he got it. Ibushi had fucked Kenny up far more than Kenny would ever admit, and then by screwing Ibushi over Kenny fucked himself up even more. There is no one in the world who can defeat Kenny Omega quite like himself. For all Okada can push Kenny to the extreme, Kenny can push himself that little bit more. For all Ibushi gutted Kenny, Kenny shoved the knife a little deeper. By that stage in their _relationship_ , Marty had long accepted that he was going to be what Kenny needed, even when it was detrimental to Marty, he would be there for Kenny.

He could dress it up in a thousand different ways. He could say it was all for his benefit, or for the good of Bullet Club, or BTE, or a million other things, but the truth is it was for Kenny. Marty liked seeing him smile, liked seeing him happy, and the more than that he liked being the cause of that smile and the source of that happy.

But Marty is a vain thing. His vanity was the downfall of his serving as Kenny’s rebound. His vanity had him skulking as far away from Kenny as he could manage, watching the G1 online, nibbling his nails, when really he probably should have been there. Ibushi was there, and for Kenny’s sake Marty should have been too. Yet, somehow it all played in Marty’s favour. Somehow, Kenny came to him with an apology and the tentative request to start over.

Marty had expected that they’d have sex once they’d eaten and gotten back to his hotel room, but instead, Kenny flopped onto the bed with Marty in his arms, and spilt his guts. As charming as emotional honesty is, anything that brings Kenny that much misery is something that Marty is very much against. So, at the first tear, Marty had tried to shush him.

Kenny had ignored Marty’s insistence that they would be just fine without full disclosure on the basis that one this more than likely wouldn’t be full disclosure because Kenny is very fond of mental self-flagellation, and two he had promised to tell Marty _everything_ before they had sex again. There’d been a strange weight to Kenny’s words. Marty concluded that _promises_ mean more to Kenny that he’d let on. And now, with his guts laid bare, Kenny is staring up at Marty with slightly glassy, brilliantly blue eyes, and Marty has no idea what he’s expected to say.

“ _So_ …” Kenny trails off, and Marty is still at a loss for words. “You’re kinda quiet, Marty.” Marty is, and remains so simply because he’s not entirely sure what Kenny needs to hear. There are a million things he _could_ say, but he’s not sure what he _should_ say.

He slips from Kenny’s arms, and headed towards his luggage. He can hear Kenny sitting up, and even louder than that Marty can hear the silent panic emanating from him. He’s tangling himself with a man who is a mess, an absolute minefield of emotional pitfalls, but he’s tangling himself willingly. He might try and sort the mess out, but Marty’s all but certain the only person who could really sort Kenny out is the man himself. Kenny, however, seems very disinclined to sort any of his mess out, so Marty’s just going to have to live being tangled up in Kenny he supposes.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He turns back to Kenny, and grins at a relieved looking Kenny. “Here, got you a present.” It started with a curly wurly first time around. It might as well start with one the second time around.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can only hope this was fluffy enough Moiself! We both know that fluff isn't my strongest of points!


End file.
